Once Upon a Family
by Wish I Was a Winchester
Summary: Once Upon a Time, two brothers were separated. They have to find each other once again, and it happens in the strangest of circumstances. (NOT WINCEST)(Somewhat of a Cinderella AU)(Sabriel)(Destiel)(Some Samifer)(Set in a fairytale-ish land with princes and stuff)
1. Chapter 1

**Alright. So. This is my second Supernatural fanfiction, not including all the unfinished ones in Google Docs. I'll try and post every weekend.**

 **If you followed me because of Finding a Supernatural Life: I've been editing all the chapters, that's why I haven't posted in a while. Sorry. I'll try and post soon.**

Once Upon a Time, a young boy by the name of Samuel lived happily with his older brother, his father, and their mother. The family wasn't particularly rich, but they were happy, and that was all that mattered. They resided in the small town of Lawrence, in the kingdom of Kansas. Everybody knew everybody, it seemed, and Samuel and his brother Dean, despite being just a few years old combined, were constantly the center of attention. If anything happened to those children, well… there would be severe consequences, to say the least.

Samuel was a small lad, just six months of age, with a full head of chestnut hair and wide eyes that many compared to blooming sunflowers. He cried very rarely, and was quite easy to delight.

His brother was much the same, and the townsfolk loved to watch him run around the town square with his playfellow and companion Charlie. His hair covered the back of his neck and his ears in light brown, almost blond, strands. His brilliant viridescent eyes resembled emeralds such that, whenever one of the small, shining gems was traded for some of the local goods by a passing traveller, it was almost always guaranteed that it would make its way to Dean.

Charlie was much bubblier than either brother, excitable as they may be. Her giggles made all of the villagers stop and listen, and her interactions with the other young maidens of the town brought smiles to everyone's lips. Dean oftentimes teased her about her bright, ruby red hair and pale complexion, but it was all in good fun. She was well-nigh a year older than him, and they got along fine. Born with the name Celeste, she had decided that Charlie better suited her when she heard the name while listening to the bards weave tales of bravery and chivalry, and the change of identity was easily accepted by all who knew her.

John, the brothers' father, was hardly a stoic man, and held great compassion in his heart when it came to his family. He worked as a smith and spent near all day in the blistering heat of the forges, fashioning red-hot, malleable metals into every type of contravance. Still, he came home each evening with a warm smile upon his face and wide open arms to embrace his family, just in time for dinner.

Samuel's mother Rosemary, or Mary, as she was more commonly known, had been raised in the lifestyle of a game hunter, but had abandoned the occupation as it was so frowned upon by society for a lady to pursue such a crude trade. She learned to sew and mend clothes, which she discovered wasn't all that different from stitching up near fatal wounds resulting from clumsy hunting accidents.

The family of the subject of our story lived in a small house towards the center of town, with a cobblestone floor and wooden walls. It had two stories, and four rooms total. The main room on the first floor contained a single space that consisted of a fireplace of brick with a few chairs situated around it, a woolen rug covering about half of the floor space. A table was on the other side of the room, right next to the stairs. That was where they ate their meals and played games designed for young children.

Up the stairs and to the left was the nursery in which Samuel resided, the room next to it belonging to the older Winchester brother. Across the short hall was where John and Mary slept. That was the largest room of the upstairs portion of the house.

Inside Samuel's room was a small bassinet, draped with warm blankets and small, hand sewn playthings. A tall cabinet stood in the corner, small carvings dotting it made months ago by an impatient, pregnant Mary. A wide window lined the wall beside the wardrobe, easily accessible from both outside and inside, if one knows how to scale a wall. This happened to be the fault in the structure of the Winchester house.

Larceny happened to be somewhat common in these outer parts of the kingdom, but the Winchesters' had, luckily, never fallen victim to the crime. However, that was not the case from the evening our story begins, onward.

Samuel peered up into the dark, quiet room curiously, his small fists gripping his blanket. He twisted in his cot, rolling onto his stomach and babbling incoherently. Moonlight shone through the window and shrouded the room in a silvery curtain of luminosity, which was the cause of Samuel's restlessness on that particular night.

The light given from the great white orb in the sky was impeded on by a shadowy figure whose face was illuminated only by the small torch held in his hand, the moon being behind him. Samuel's face screwed up and he began to wail at the sight of the newcomer, who glared at him as if the six month old would understand to quiet his cries. Samuel's screams only intensified in volume as the light caught on the flat edge of a blade.

The dark-clothed man's head turned sharply at the sound of the door's lock unlatching, and he raised the elegantly-forged knife high into the air. Quiet were his footsteps as he hid behind the opening entrance, waiting with baited breath for the mother to step into the room. He held his torch behind him, the light hardly noticeable as it danced across the wall behind the door.

Mary's face was drawn taut with concern for her youngest, a shawl pulled tight around her shoulders to shield her tan skin from the wind. She spoke in hushed whispers as she approached Samuel's bassinet, crooning a soft lullaby in a low voice. His sobs began to cease, falling to a low whimper as she rubbed his back gently.

Mary gently kissed Samuel on the head and turned back to walk out of the room. She froze, finally perceiving the man standing in the corner of the room. She stepped back and a scream left her mouth, which was shortly muffled as the intruder darted forward and covered her mouth with a gloved hand. The knife sliced through the front of her shirt and imbedded itself into her chest cleanly.

The attacker pulled the blade out of her chest and gently lowered her dying body to the ground. He fled out the window just as the father stepped into the room, turning back to look at him. His eyes glinted a golden color in the firelight from his torch, which he tossed into the room.

Dean trailed sleepily behind his father into his younger brother's room, but the tiredness left his face the moment that flames began to spread across the floor. His eyes alighted on his mother's cold body and, although he wasn't quite sure what exactly had happened, he knew it was bad.

* * *

Dean stumbled under the weight of his little brother, his young arms hardly strong enough to hold the baby. Both children had tears in their eyes now, unsure of what was happening. Their father had yelled something almost inaudible over the roaring flames and shoved Samuel into his older brother's arms, then pushed them both away from the room and towards the stairs.

It was near silent outside under the dark blanket of stars, but everything seemed so loud. Samuel's cries rung in his ears like an echo in a vast, gaping cavern, and the image of flames enveloping the room were permanently engraved into the back of his mind. Dean stumbled down the street anxiously, squinting in the dark. It had been near fifteen minutes and his father had yet to emerge from the burning structure, and Dean's small mind subconsciously feared for the worst.

Finally, Dean found the small building where Charlie lived, and weakly banged his fist against the front door. He could still see distantly the glow of a fire against the night sky and a small whimper was brought to his lips. He scrubbed at his ashy face with the hand not supporting Samuel and knocked again, impatiently.

It took a moment, but finally the door cracked open to reveal Charlie's mother, Gertrude. She took one look at Dean before hurrying them inside. She pressed a finger to her lips, letting them know that Charlie was asleep.

The dark-haired woman ushered them into the living room, Samuel's cries rising once more. Dean gently rocked him in her arms and crooned soft words in his ear. His eyes widened at the sight of the fire roaring in the fireplace and he froze, his heart filling with fear.

* * *

Five months later found the brothers in a small home for orphans, run by a gruff man named Robert Singer. He went by Bobby, however. Samuel didn't know who he was, given his short memory span, but Dean had met him before. He had been a friend of their father.

The day after the fire occurred, while Samuel and Dean were staying at Charlie's still, the local authorities had gone through the rubble and ashes of what had formerly been a house. The bones of two bodies had been discovered, one male and one female. Spectacularly, they weren't able to find the eldest brother for questioning. Charlie's mother happened to be quite ingenuitive.

Then, about a month later, Gertrude was forced to hand them over to somewhere she knew they'd be safe- Singer's Orphanage. She couldn't have kept them with her forever, with hardly enough money to feed her own family as it was. Although, she did visit with Charlie every single weekend without fail.

The orphanage was a decent enough place, with about five other children and plenty of grass outside to play in. There was a sufficient amount of books for all ages, and Dean, at only five years old, was reading at a level that most eight year olds could just barely reach.

Both children took to Bobby quite easily, although Dean regularly asked about his parents. Samuel was almost too young to properly remember them, which Bobby considered a good thing. Two missing parents and painful memories of them hardly ever resulted in tears of joy.

Then, Samuel got adopted, just before his first birthday. That was it. Dean screamed, and kicked, and cried, but he could nothing but watch with salty tears rolling down his face as Samuel was brought to a new family; a new home. Bobby had fought long and hard to keep Samuel there, but the family was of a higher social standing than him.

Dean stayed with Bobby, however. He grew up in the orphanage, hardly looked at by families. One would think that a child of his beauty and strength would quickly be adopted, but that wasn't the case. He was always too angry, or too rash, or too _something_ for the family.

He remained there well past the age that most children would leave, too. Bobby had become something of a father figure to him, and he couldn't bear to was everyone's favorite big brother. He helped the older man with the children, sympathizing with the older ones and playing with the younger. The way that they giggled and reached for him pulled at a faint memory in the back of his head, but he always shoved it down before the tears came.

* * *

Samuel was adopted by a family who, apparently, didn't live anywhere near Lawrence. They were located in Lebanon, the capital of the kingdom. Why they had come out that far to adopt a child, no one knew.

The family also happened to be very wealthy. That was a frequent trait of people in the capital. He had two sisters; Lilith and Ruby. Lilith was the eldest, being five years older than him, and Ruby was just three years younger than she. Their father wasn't home very often, so Samuel hardly saw any of him.

Their mother, however, was always home. Her name was Eve, and she looked much too young to be a mother. She, along with Lilith and Ruby, were treacherous, vile beings, with absolutely no morals.

By the time he was four, Samuel had learned not to use his sister's things. By the time he was seven, he had learned not to speak unless spoken to. By the time he was ten, he had learned to never complain about chores. By the time he was twelve, he had learned not to get better grades than Lilith and Ruby. By the time he was fourteen, he had learned to hunch his shoulders and duck his head in public, so as to be less noticeable.

Lilith and Ruby shared a room on the second floor of their large house, while Samuel had the attic all to himself. This wasn't necessarily a good thing, though. The attic was coated in dust and cobwebs, and was the hottest part of the house. He had a small, rickety bed just under the open window through which birds and bats flew in and out. A small bookcase resided in the corner, ancient-looking tomes lining the shelves.

Samuel had decided that would go by Sam at the age of nine. It's wasn't really for any reason other than the simplicity of the name 'Sam'. It matched the circumstances of his life. Simple. Wake up, make breakfast for the rest of the family, go to school, do chores, go to sleep. Avoid everyone else. That was all there was to it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **Amara and Chuck, aka Charles, are not siblings in this story. I repeat, not related. Actually, given the way that many royal families used to be, they were probably, like, third cousins or something. Also, I feel so fucking bad about this, but I'm going to have to make Raphael white. It is literally only because him being a man of color wouldn't fit with the rest of the family, and I desperately need him in the story. Trust me, I'll try and add in more representation with OC's later in the story(have you noticed all of the major cast are white as shit?)**

 **Okay, the actual plot starts next chapter. The chapters will rotate between Dean, Cas, Sam, and Gabe.**

In the exact center of Lebanon, Kansas, was a towering, imposing castle. Its high walls were built of large, smooth stone blocks, its doors made from the strongest trees. Nearly every corridor was laced with golden frivalties that cost as much as the castle itself.

Inside resided the most powerful family of their time. A gilded throne sat in the Grand Hall, belonging to none other than the Golden King Charles himself. Beside the throne was an even more elegant seat, albeit slightly smaller, on which the Dark Queen Amara had sat. She was no longer seated there, however, as she had passed away during the birth of her youngest. King Charles had refused to marry again, instead ruling by himself with his children by his side.

Three seats were lined up on either side of the two large thrones, one for each of the young princes. The eldest, Prince Michael, sat closest to his father's side. Next to him was Raphael, the third oldest. Last on King Charles' side of the Grand Hall was the seat of Castiel, who was second youngest.

On the side of the deceased Queen Amara were the other three. Just to the right of her was the oldest after Michael, Lucifer, and then there was Gabriel, the youngest of the oldest four. The final child on their mother's side was the child Samandriel.

Each of the royal children had been named after an angel. The eldest four were aptly named after the four Archangels, and that was the moniker given to their group. Each of the Archangels were born a year after the previous. Then, a handful of years after Gabriel was born, the Queen bore Castiel. Two years later came Samandriel.

The eldest son was constantly by his father's side, intent on being king one day. Michael was, in many people's opinions, the least emotional of the six.

Lucifer, the second, had what was probably the worst luck of his entire family, which he tended to attribute to his namesake. However, he always did his best to make the most of the unfortunate circumstances under which he was raised. He and Michael often disputed, and tensions were nearly always tight between the two.

Raphael was unimportant compared to his siblings, which he had always hated. He grew up in the shadow of Michael and Lucifer, never being able to outshine either. His entire personality was a poor replica of his oldest brother's.

The youngest Archangel was the brightest, most irritating, ungrateful of the four eldest. At least, that's what the others said. In all honesty, Gabriel simply abhorred the constant hostilities present within the bonds his siblings shared.

Castiel was adored by all, although he had never quite been able to register the feelings. As he grew, he began picking up on social cues and emotions, but he was always distant as an adolescent. Strangely enough, he had been the bubbliest of the bunch as a babe.

The youngest royal, Samandriel, was often deemed the most precious. He was constantly smiling, and tended to be quite social.

That being said, Gabriel commonly found himself to be the center of attention, despite the more prominent social traits in his youngest sibling. Gabriel was, and always had been, a mischievous person.

Oftentimes, the prince went into the smaller villages under the cover of a hooded cloak and played tricks on the people. They were always done in jest, if a bit cruel. Although, his games were only played on people he deemed worthy.

Nobody was aware of his pastime, of course. He made sure of that. His brother Castiel had caught him sneaking out of the castle once, but he easily passed the incident off with a simple lie about a maiden. It could have very easily been the truth, however, given the handsome looks that he shared with his brothers.

He had dark golden hair, almost brown, that was just a couple shades lighter than Samandriel's. His whiskey eyes glinted gold in the sunlight, accentuating the spark of mischief held within them. There was hardly a moment that a wide smile wasn't pulling at the corners of his lips.

* * *

Castiel was not quite in touch with normal human emotions, as many of his siblings could attest to. He often had a difficult time differentiating expressions such as fear and anger, or joy and pride. He himself was not very expressive, his most common countenance being confusion.

However, despite his unresponsiveness, nearly all of the village ladies swooned over him. The thing that likely attracted them most were the brilliant blue orbs, which could be seen from a mile away through heavy fog. Unlike the rest of his brothers, Castiel had dark brown hair, almost sable.

Unbeknownst to anyone aside the birds that trill outside his wide, arching window each morning, Castiel didn't care for any of the maidens. The supple curves and delicate features were unappealing in his mind, which he thought to be strange. On numerous occasions he had attempted to force romantic feelings for a lady on himself, but each attempt was in vain.

Gabriel, of course, had his suspicions, being attracted to both men and women himself, but hadn't enough proof to confirm his theory just yet.


End file.
